Another Life

Chapter 11 - Things aren't going to plan...

Aragorn made us run. We stumbled down the hill, I kept glancing back, half expecting to see Orcs on our tail.  Pain grew worse, pain from cuts, scrapes, the wound on my arm feeling like it was on fire. My skin was burnt from the Balrog. No one else was in better condition, the hobbits stumbling, but Aragorn pushed us. Only when we'd reached the forest, only when he was sure we were in the 'safe' place, did he let us stop for a moment for a drink, food and to tend to wounds.

I sat there numbly while Aragorn pressed something into my wound, trembling, staring blankly. Had it really happened? It didn't feel real. Pippin sat beside me, Merry on his other side, eyes shut, the nasty cut on his scalp being tended to by Boromir.

“By nightfall, we will be safe.” Aragorn reassured us, his eyes going to Frodo, who sat there quietly. “And will rest.”

Frodo didn't answer. He stared at his hands, still trembling, mind somewhere else.  I could guess where. Even worse, I felt it, I felt the power of that stupid thing around his neck. It was like the sadder he got, the better it got at fucking us all up, and no one seemed to know what to do. Aragorn wrapped my arm up, standing, and stared around slowly, as if looking for some more wounds. Maybe he was as clueless as we felt.

Legolas stood nearby, hands crossed, but he also looked shell-shocked. He kept staring back at us, at all of us, then to the dark. Water was passed around, food, but no one seemed able to eat or drink much.

“Come. We will continue.” Aragorn glanced up at the sky. “We must reach the trees before nightful.”

I thought we were in trees. I was wrong though. The deeper we followed Aragorn into the forest, the more the trees changed, until we walked between ancient trees covered in most, the late afternoon sunlight turning the trunks golden. No one seemed able to speak for a long time.

When they did, it was Gimli who spoke, the only one who seemed to have enough energy to speak. “Stay close, young Hobbits! They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods, an Elf-witch, of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Frodo froze, staring around, and this seemed to please Gimli a little.

“That's kind of rude.” I muttered, quietly. “If everyone who looked at her is never seen again, how do you know about her?”

“Huh?” Gimli stared at me.

“I mean, someone would have had to leave again, in order to tell everyone...” I flushed as he stared at me, shrugged. “Right?”

 For a moment, I thought I saw Legolas smile, but when I looked at him directly I only saw that empty face. But he'd shifted closer, his arm now brushing against mine once more, and I was too tired to get into the 'hey, just because I magically appeared, wore funny clothing and have no ears, doesn't mean I'm some kind of elf' argument.  But when he went to grasp my hand, I flinched, and Legolas moved away again without a single change in his expression.

“Well, not all are so easily caught. Here is one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk-”

I saw this moment in my head, as I did sometimes, knew what would happen right now.  Despite the shock and grief I found myself feeling some amusement again. I stopped. Held up my hands. This foresight stuff was great sometimes. Legolas stopped and looked at me, puzzled.

“-and the ears of a fox!” Gimli didn't even get to draw a breath in before the Elves had an arrow at his head. More Elves appeared, almost out of nothing, pointing arrows at us.

“The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark.”

I didn't comment. I wanted to though. Everyone was so exhausted, so fucking griefstricken, that they could have done this to any of us. Even magic legged Legolas. He'd been just as out of it as Gimli had, just as unable to keep an eye out, and they'd snuck up on him too. But they taunted the dwarf. What was with this attitude between dwarves and elves?